


Cont(r)act

by makkurataichou



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: M/M, Some Fluff, Warlock/Witch AU, Zaveid gets hit a lot, just jumping right into it with minimal buildup, sloppy makeout(?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 13:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8145682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makkurataichou/pseuds/makkurataichou
Summary: Warlock Sorey travels the world with his mage companions, forging contracts with them in order to borrow their power and purify the land. When one contract proves to be difficult to maintain, however, the mage Mikleo begins to look into other options.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on [ chim's](https://twitter.com/chimfucius) witch Mikleo/warlock Sorey AU! I ended up using the word "mage" instead of "witch" because it felt more gender neutral?? Idk???
> 
> (Mikleo still gets the hat though)

The Titan looms menacingly in the distance, blocking the entrance to Pendrago. Its back is turned, but Sorey can already sense the latent power dwelling within it, and it sends a chill up his spine.  
  
"That thing isn't going to budge, and it reeks of malevolence," Edna says with a frown, voicing what is already on everyone's minds. "It needs to be purified."  
  
Instead of offering to help, however, she leans back against a nearby tree. "Titans are Earth elemental, so I won't be any help," she admits. "Sorey, you'll need to draw power from the others."  
  
Sorey nods, and turns to his other companions. His gaze falls upon Lailah first—he knows that she understands his responsibilities best, having fought alongside several warlocks in the past.  
  
Lailah gives him a serious look as she walks up to him, her scarlet cloak fluttering in the wind. "Be careful, Sorey-san," she tells him. "That Titan has gathered a lot of malevolence already. It won't go down without a fight."  
  
She takes his hands in hers. "To the warlock Sorey, I lend my strength," she whispers mostly out of habit, rubbing her thumbs over his palms in small circles. Sorey feels warmth spreading through him from his fingertips to his toes, and he smiles when she lets go.  
  
"Thanks Lailah. That always makes me feel great!"  
  
"Years of practice!" she replies with a wink, and he laughs sheepishly in response.  
  
Next to her, Zaveid grins. "I could use a massage from you too, Lailah of the Lake," he says smoothly, stretching out his back in mock pain. He receives a response in the form of a high-heeled shoe slamming into his boot, causing him to double over and cry out in pain.  
  
"Don't take your position lightly, Zaveid of the Forest," she replies with a dismissive smile. The taller mage grumbles and rubs his foot briefly, then turns to the young warlock.  
  
"I should've asked for more perks when I agreed to this, but I guess a poor kid like you hasn't got anything to offer," he sighs with a shrug. "Well, whatever. Get over here."  
  
Sorey takes a step towards him. "Closer." Another step. "Closer, Sorey." Yet another step. "I won't bite, dammit!"  
  
When Sorey is finally within what appears to be an acceptable range, Zaveid suddenly places his hands on the warlock's shoulders. He leans forward so his mouth is beside Sorey's ear and blows into it, sending a shiver through the young man's frame.  
  
Sorey jumps back almost instantly, a betrayed expression on his face. "Zaveid! Why do you always have to do that?" he protests, cupping his ear in self-defense.  
  
Zaveid lets out a laugh. "Because you're a riot. And I'm gonna keep doing it, so long as you keep falling for it," he says with a cocky smirk, placing a hand on his hip.  
  
The warlock groans. Zaveid may be a renegade mage, but he is still a mage nonetheless, and Sorey needs all the help he can get on his journey—especially knowing that wind mages are few and far between.  
  
Dismissing that thought, he turns to his final companion. Mikleo places a hand on the rim of his witch's hat—an accessory to which he holds some kind of sentimental attachment—and takes a step forward. Ever professional, his cool gaze remains completely focused on Sorey.  
  
"Ready?" he asks, pulling a knife out of his tunic pocket. The warlock nods slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat.  
  
It is always the contract with Mikleo that he saves for last. For generations, mages and warlocks have forged their contracts through a sharing of the elements. Lailah's fire, beautiful but dangerous, is passed to Sorey when she warms his hands. Zaveid's wind, brash yet focused, is easier as it only requires him to exhale on Sorey's skin. Edna's earth, stable and strong, is a tricky one, but she enjoys smearing his face with mud and it usually seems to do the job.  
  
Mikleo's water, however, requires focus, calm, and an exchange of fluids. Blood was what the mage used to bind himself to warlocks in the past, and blood is what he uses now as he runs the edge of the blade against his right palm, slicing through pale, scarred skin.  
  
He passes the knife to Sorey, who makes a similar incision in his left hand, wincing when it stings. They press their hands together, and Sorey feels the power of Mikleo's water flow through him like a cool, refreshing stream.  
  
"Thanks, everyone," he manages to say as Mikleo closes up their wounds with his healing. He feels faint, but knows that that the sensation will pass soon enough. Right now, he has bigger things to deal with.  
  
"Remember, Sorey-san," Lailah says. "We can fight alongside you, but you need to be the one to deal the finishing blow in order to purify the Titan."  
  
"Don't hurt yourself thinking too much about it," Edna chimes in. "Mages are trained from birth. We know how to support warlocks just fine."  
  
"Just do what you can, Sorey," Mikleo offers with a small, supportive smile. "We'll cover you."  
  
Sorey nods and unsheathes his sword. "I'm counting on you."

* * *

The battle is not easy. The Titan is much larger up close, and while the group is able to ambush it, it does not give them much of an advantage. Sorey dodges its slow attacks, darting between its flailing arms to deal swift blows to the weak points underneath.

The mages keep their distance, firing spell after spell at the gigantic creature, which barely breaks a sweat in response. Only the warlock's attacks, imbued with the power of his companions, seem to do any damage at all.  
  
After what feels like hours, the Titan begins to sway on its feet. Its attacks grow visibly slower and weaker, and Zaveid senses an opportunity.  
  
"Do it now, Sorey! The final blow!" he cries out.  
  
Sorey glances back at him in acknowledgment. Then, he launches himself into the air, propelled by wind, and slams his sword down against the creature's belly. Streams of fire and water erupt from his weapon, and the Titan moans as it finally falls to the ground, defeated.  
  
Sorey stands over its corpse and pulls his sword from its chest as it begins to dematerialize. His mage companions run towards him, and he turns to wave at them with a smile on his face.  
  
Suddenly, his vision begins to blur. He feels light-headed, and his smile falters when he just barely sees the concerned expressions on his friends' faces.  
  
"S-sorry..." he manages to say weakly before collapsing on the ground. He vaguely feels a pair of arms encircling him, a warm hand on his face, his weight being lifted onto a back much larger than his own.  
  
"I told you not to hurt yourself, idiot," is the last thing he hears before he loses consciousness.

* * *

When Sorey awakens, he finds himself in a bed. The worn ceiling of an inn room fills his bleary vision, and he sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes with one hand.  
  
"You're finally awake."  
  
Mikleo's soft voice takes him by surprise. The mage is leaning against the wall to his right, arms crossed in front of his chest. He pushes himself away from the wall and draws closer to Sorey.  
  
"How are you feeling? Still light-headed?" he asks, placing a cool hand on Sorey's forehead. The warlock shakes his head, slowly, so as to not lose the soothing feeling of Mikleo's hand against his skin.  
  
"I'm sorry if I had you guys worried," he offers, hoping to make the mage feel better. "I was just tired after the battle, that's all."  
  
Mikleo frowns in response. "You took more damage than you thought, Sorey," he says, clenching his fists. "It was the blood transfusion, I know it. I almost cost you your _life_ ."  
  
Sorey's eyes grow wide and he shakes his head again, more intensely this time. "No, no, Mikleo, it's not your fault at all!" he insists. "I just over-exerted myself, I'm sure of it!"  
  
His words do not seem to ease the mage's concern. Mikleo's frown grows deeper, and he begins to play with the ends of Sorey's comforter, crushing the soft fabric between his fingers.  
  
"There has to be another way...even compared to _that_ ..." His grip grows more intense, and Sorey starts to feel worried; Mikleo's brows are drawn close together, and his cheeks are inexplicably stained pink.  
  
"Uh, is something bothering you Mikleo—"  
  
Suddenly, as if having made some kind of decision, Mikleo's head snaps up to look Sorey in the eye.  
  
"I tried to heal most of your injuries, but you still have some internal bleeding." He gestures towards Sorey's ribs. "That's something you're going to have to do on your own."  
  
Sorey raises an eyebrow. "On my own? But you're the one with—"  
  
He ceases to think when Mikleo's mouth suddenly slams into his.  
  
The kiss is completely unexpected and incredibly sloppy; so unlike Mikleo's refined image. Yet, despite his initial shock, Sorey sighs contentedly, gathering the mage in his arms and pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. He closes his eyes and feels a soft tongue gliding over his own; the urge to make a noise rushes through him—

Suddenly, Mikleo pulls away abruptly and averts his gaze. Sorey sits there in shock, slowly acknowledging the cool, watery sensation that floods into his stomach...along with a cluster of butterflies.  
  
_'A transfer of fluids...oh. I get it now.'_  
  
Sorey tries his best to hide his embarrassment at having misinterpreted (and thoroughly enjoyed) Mikleo's actions. He closes his eyes and casts a healing spell on himself, undoing the damage to his insides. When he opens his eyes again, however, Mikleo still refuses to meet his gaze, choosing instead to stare at the embroidery on the edge of the quilt.  
  
"I-I hope you feel better," the mage stammers, biting his lower lip. Sorey registers in that moment, as he has in many moments before, how beautiful Mikleo is. The hesitant violet gaze, the trace of a pout upon his lips—even now, as he shyly shifts in his seat and stammers an apology, Sorey feels his face grow warm.  
  
Without giving himself another moment to regret his earlier actions, he pulls Mikleo closer and presses their lips together again, taking them both by surprise.  
  
"Thank you, Mikleo," Sorey murmurs against his mouth. Mikleo says nothing, and for a moment Sorey grows tense, afraid that he has overstepped his boundaries.  
  
But then, Mikleo smiles against his lips and presses himself closer, bumping their noses together ever so slightly. It is a subtle display of affection, but it makes Sorey's heart beat just a little faster.  
  
_‘No more words are needed anyway,’_ he thinks as he draws Mikleo even closer, and they drift off into a peaceful slumber surrounded by each other's warmth.

* * *

Extra:  
  
"He always chooses me last," Mikleo huffs, crossing his arms. "Even if he formed a pact with a thousand mages, I'd probably _still_ be last. He clearly has something against me."  
  
Lailah pats his shoulder. "There, there, Mikleo-san. You know Sorey-san isn't like that!"  
  
"I-I guess, but—"  
  
"I find it hilarious that you're so concerned about this," Edna adds, smirking. "Why is the great Mikleo of the River so worried about what one measly little warlock thinks of him?"  
  
Mikleo flushes and tips his hat forward to hide his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Heh, he's getting defensive!" Zaveid grins from ear to ear. "Who would've thought! Our Mikleo-boy is _attached_ ."  
  
Edna nods. "We've lost another good water mage to the currents of love. Such a shame."  
  
"I-It's not love!!" he shouts, still embarrassed. "I just..." he tries to elaborate in a softer tone. "I'm sure it's the knife, and the blood...I wish I didn't have to cause him so much pain."  
  
"There are plenty of other ways to swap fluids, you know," Zaveid offers with a wink. "For example—"  
  
Before he can say another word, Edna smacks the back of his head with her staff. "We don't need any of your suggestions, pervert," she tells him, causing Mikleo to blush even more deeply while Zaveid rubs the sore spot at the back of his skull.  
  
"He _is_ right, though!" Lailah says brightly, clapping her hands together. "Our bodies contain several fluids aside from blood—surely you could use something else?"  
  
"There's one thing I can think of that I think Sapleo will enjoy." Edna eyes him with a teasing grin. "Saliva."  
  
Mikleo tenses. "Y-you want me to lick him?!"  
  
"No, you idiot. You've got to _swap_ fluids. _Kiss_ him."  
  
"...oh."

He looks to Lailah, expecting her to have some kind of logical reason as to why Edna's suggestion will not work. Instead, he finds her staring at him with stars in her eyes.  
  
"Why, that sounds perfect, doesn't it Mikleo-san?" She looks ecstatic. "You should definitely try it out when he wakes up!"  
  
Zaveid nods, still nursing his wound from earlier. "Kid's still got some broken bones. It'll be a good experiment."  
  
The decision appears to be unanimous, but in the end Mikleo's vote is what matters most. And while the idea of kissing Sorey sounds ridiculous (not to mention extremely embarrassing), a part of him begins to consider what the warlock's lips would feel like against his, and it makes his cheeks grow hot.

He places his face in his hands. "Fine. I'll try it. _Maybe_ ."  
  
Even though he can't see it, Mikleo already knows that the others are grinning. He groans inwardly.  
  
_'It looks like I just got set up.’_

**Author's Note:**

> I love making Zaveid suffer :^)
> 
> Also the whole "of the X" naming system might've sounded cooler in my head.....


End file.
